I Hate Grapefruit
by Zoey Overbeck
Summary: Everybody knows that Francis hates a lot of things- 64, approximately, but it's not like the other survivors aren't allowed to hate stuff too.


Left 4 Dead belongs to the Valve Corporation.

This was written in part of poking fun and greatly exaggerating Beriothien Nenharma's hatred of the fruit mentioned here, using this story as an excuse for not updating my other stories and to temporarily revert to my younger type of writing (Non-serious, crazy and nonsensical by an overwhelming majority). I haven't eaten grapefruit, so my description of the citrus fruit might be a little off. This is somewhat OOC, so be warned (then again, we can assume everyone within the game are cracking under the pressure and that they are now becoming senile after weeks of fighting off hordes of zombies...).

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><p>"<em>In time we hate that which we often fear.<em>" ~ Bill Shakespeare  
>'Antony and Cleopatra', Act I, Scene III<p>

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><p><em><strong>It was yellowish orange, it was round, it was visibly offensive to him, and it was sitting innocently there in front of him along with a pile of others just like it within the safe room.<strong>_

Well, perhaps it wasn't sitting as innocently in the elderly veteran's eyes. Whatever higher powers controlling the zombie apocalypse that had took the world by storm were jealous of their power, taking whatever opportunity they could to rain all kinds of hell on the poor survivors that were feebly struggling for their lives. Whatever shit all four of the ragged survivors had waded through presently paled in comparison to this new threat- this disgusting object that had rolled in his path while he was leading his group of three heavily battered and bruised teammates through the barren remains of Pennsylvania in the dim hopes of reaching Riverside after their previous means of escape had crashed horribly into the ground.

After the crash, a heavily limping Zoey had carried his limp, unconscious form from the flaming wreckage of the remains of the former flying machine and into a nearby building to recover. Francis and Louis had then begun to patch him up with the remainder of their health kits. All three of them had kept vigil over the elderly man, especially when he had begun to thrash violently, punch the air above him in his sleep, and yelled 'horseshit pickle fairies' on a constant basis. One time, his wild swinging had hit Francis square in the crotch, causing the latter to double over in pain and swear that once the elderly veteran had woken up, he would punch him like there was no tomorrow even though Bill was often seen as a frail old man that was nothing more than skin and bones in his eyes.

Once he had awakened, he had to pause and lie down momentarily as a splitting headache soon befell him. Francis then tried to punch and kick Bill in the crotch as hard as he could repeatedly, but the veteran continually dodged the biker's strikes, strategically moved to the highest place in the room, and then barred the biker's attempts to reach him by removing anything that the younger man could use to his advantage. Bill then proceeded to calmly light a cigarette and watched Francis' with amusement as the tattooed man screamed almost unintelligible streams of curses in utter frustration. After a few days of recovering from his injuries, Bill shot zombies wandering away from their horde with his Assault Rifle as if nothing had happened, albeit suffering from a lower accuracy on nailing zombies due to the limitations his handicaps limited the war worn veteran to. However, feeling that the veteran was able to tough it out, the group had moved as swiftly as possible from their hiding place towards the safe room they were now currently occupying. The Tank and the encounter with the horde attracted to the Howitzer had sapped their remaining energy reserves, and for now, the survivors were trying to recuperate from their latest encounter with horde after horde of these... monsters.

"Bull frikking horseshit" Bill muttered his trademark quote angrily once more, eying the fruit hidden inside of a green K rations crate and shouldering his Assault Rifle after he had inserted a fresh magazine into the aforementioned weapon.

He could take zombies any day of the week; it didn't even hold a candle to the supposedly great zombie attack of 1959 that had never even happened. It never stopped him from often joking about it, though. Surviving one night in an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere with the object of his hatred, however, was basically asking for trouble. He absolutely could not stand grapefruit, no matter how small and insignificant it seemed to present itself as. Grapefruit was as much a threat to the world as a hundred thousand of those infernal Tanks unleashed at once upon the ruined world.

As much as the elderly veteran would have cared to admit, the aforementioned fruit was on his personal list of things he hated. His earlier experience with eating it somehow caused him to hallucinate and spend half of the day hoarsely screaming 'Tank!' at the top of his lungs and running away like mad every time the group came across an innocent propane tank. The rest of the day was wasted trying to even _find _Bill; apparently, he had "developed" the ability to talk to the Molotov cocktail on his belt, which instructed him to run away from its constant rival in terms of zombies slain, the pipe bomb. Upon being found, Bill went crazy and screamed at his teammates that stairs would make everyone he knew and cherished climb them for all eternity until he was finally knocked unconscious by Louis. The elderly veteran would never be able to live it down; he saw how Francis' lips twitched into a full blown grin every time the biker recalled that specific memory.

While everyone just saw it as just another food source they could consume, Bill saw it as his worst nightmare. It forever haunted his dreams and plagued his thoughts while he was trying to go to sleep. It was hovering over his companions and his beloved Assault Rifle as a giant, threatening to crush them to a pulp just by letting gravity take its course. The elderly veteran could feel the pulpy texture of the fruit in his mouth even when it was not there and taste the bitterness flowing over his tongue in its crystal red juice. It was like acid, stinging every surface it touched with the ferocity of a thousand bees. Grapefruit was disgusting- pure and simple as that.

"Bill, it's just an oversized orange" Zoey reasoned in a soothing voice. Nudging him lightly, she jerked him out of his reverie, held a chunk of the citrus fruit itself and gradually devoured it in small nibbles. "A big... pinkish red... orange... fruit" she continued, trailing off as the veteran shook his head fervently. "Right..." Zoey concluded, slightly frowning as the elderly man grunted and continued to shake his head in response.

The college student was wincing a little as the subtle sourness alienated her taste buds after having lived off sugary junk food in her dorm. She had been trying to wait out the zombie apocalypse and, failing that, tried to attract help of any kind, which eventually lead to Bill and Francis' eventual discovery of her in her college dorm. Francis eagerly snapped up large chunks of the bitter fruit and slammed the rest of the hybrid citrus fruit in his face, eager to prove his toughness and invincibility to the rest of his colleagues once again. The ruby red liquid splattered all over the stubs of his shaved beard and dripped from his chin onto his stained white T-shirt, but the biker didn't care as long as none of it touched his prized black leather vest. Meanwhile, Louis, having eaten grapefruit regularly, took a more analytical approach, peeling away the grapefruit's skin and carefully eating each of the citrus fruit's slices.

"Oversized orange or not, I ain't eating it" Bill growled through clenched teeth, crossing his hands in front of his chest and sticking his bearded chin out defiantly.  
>"Aww... is the tough old man scared of a wittle piece of fwuit?" Francis mockingly cooed in a baby voice, sticking his tongue out playfully at the elderly survivor, drawing the latter's ire.<br>"Shut the hell up, Francis" the veteran snarled, balling his hands into fists and preparing to launch into an all-out fist fight despite being at a disadvantage due to his advanced age.  
>"Whatever, old man" the biker snorted dismissively, throwing the remains of the fruit onto the floor and messily wiping away the juices with one swipe of his hairy, tattooed arm. "I just thought you'd be grateful that we've been given real fruit instead of awful canned beans after all the shit we've been going through"<p>

Bill glared at his rowdy companion but chose not to reply, seeing it useless while the biker was more concentrated on ripping another grapefruit's skin to shreds and madly devouring the juicy fruit inside. Francis plunged his filthy hands into the fruit and ripped out more of the grapefruit and shoved it into his mouth, getting more than his fair share of the precious food. Juice splattered everywhere as Francis continued to eat, splashing on the walls, on the floor, and on the rickety wooden table that held the remaining fruit in the green K rations box. As far as the biker was concerned, this could be the only real food they could have in months, even years if the zombies didn't die out from the environment around them, and he wanted to be sure that he got as much of it as he could.

"Jesus, Francis!" Louis yelped, watching the biker nervously as the latter disregarded the businessman's pleas and continued to eat the fruit very much like a pig would. "You're like a Hunter! At least be neat about this!" Francis smirked in reply in between mouthfuls of the food and merely flicking grapefruit juice at Louis, oinking and snorting before collapsing into hysterical fits of laughter.  
>"You sure you're not going to eat, Bill?" Zoey asked, finishing the rest of her 'meal' and watching Francis with disgust. "I "mean, grapefruit is supposed to be good for you"<br>"I think Zoey's right, Bill" Louis tried to reason as he turned away from the pillaging biker, wincing as the scarlet fluid mottled his pristine white business shirt. "I mean, we have all this fruit in here, why don't we eat it? It's got to be better than the peanut butter Francis took from the shop"  
>"Hey!" Francis snapped, sending an accusing glare at the systems analyst. "Stop, stop! Don't you even dare think about mocking peanut butter! That thing's probably saved your ass more than once, okay?" the biker continued, shoving the businessman.<br>"Hey man, that's not cool!" Louis retorted, shoving the biker back.  
>"That's it! Your ass is grass!" Francis snarled, discarding the remains of the fruit and tackling Louis to the ground; a brawl soon ensued between both of them.<br>"Uh, guys?" Zoey nervously said, pointing to the mob of infected humans gathering outside of the safe room door, obviously attracted to the amount of noise and light.  
>"I hate grapefruit" Bill sighed resignedly as he pinched the bridge of his nose before grabbing his Assault Rifle and mowing down all the zombies Vietnam style.<p>

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><p><strong>Cut Scene:<strong>

An evil gleam came into Bill's eyes as he eyed the fruit lying his his withered hands, biting into his cigarette with his teeth so hard that it was almost cut in half.

"Eat grapefruit, my ass! Prepare for your execution!" he exclaimed, curling a hand into a fist. "Falcon punch!"

The grapefruit flew into the air and smashed onto the remains of the metal barricade hastily erected by the military. With a sadistic grin, Bill pulled the lever on the Howitzer's side for the last time that night and rejoiced as he watched the flying projectile blow the accursed fruit into a million pieces, laughing maniacally. Not even a Hunter accidentally misjudging its pounce and flying into the water to its doom could direct the attention of the elderly man from his celebration on the liberation of mankind from the infernal fruit... that is, until some of the reddish pink juices landed on his beret. Looking up, his eyes widened as they took in the liquid death shower of grapefruit juice. The cursed fruit was still taunting him, even after its figurative death, mocking him for his failure to get the last word in at the end.

"No, no, no!" Bill shouted angrily, snatching the beret from his head and throwing it to the ground, sinking onto his knees soon afterwards. "It wasn't supposed to end like this!"

_The zombies eventually died out due to the fact that they don't eat or sleep._

_Grapefruit mutated and then took over the world thanks to Bill._

**The End  
><strong>


End file.
